A Many-sided Man
Will Goodloe has all the heart you could want from a legendary Texas Football coach—but he’s so much more than the stereotype. I met him when he was an assistant football coach and AP English teacher at an elite private school in San Antonio. Since then, we’ve had some incredible, wide-ranging conversations about everything from conditioning training, to W.E.B. DuBois, to high school boys on probation, to being raised by a single mom in the burrito capital of the world (San Diego, of course).
No matter what aspect of life we talked about, he always taught me something about what it means to be a man, and showed a special kind of thoughtfulness about what’s being passed down to younger generations.
So, I asked him to share his thoughts on masculinity across foundational aspects of his identity, and he wrote me back.
As a Coach
As a coach, being a man requires an understanding of the nuances of life and how they impact my ability to explore and model manhood. The exploration of manhood as a coach is primarily philosophical because of seismic shifts in societal norms and cultural expectations related to manhood and masculinity. As a coach in a single-gender and faith-based institution, I needed to demonstrate the characteristics of a God-fearing provider with a keen awareness of self and the importance of exploring interests outside physical conquests (athletic competitions, strength training, sex, courtship), academic pursuits, and social climbing. Yes, those are critical aspects of manhood; however, being a 21st-century man includes recognizing the value of camaraderie amongst peers and other like-hearted people.
As a coach, being a man also means sharing authentic experiences with the young people in my care, regardless of how they perceive my flaws. Doing so provides access to vulnerability within a space generally reserved for brutality, secrets, and self-suppression. Young men must be taught to explore their emotions within a brotherhood of support. Men need safe places to express themselves without fear of reprisal. A coach, unafraid to share their fears and failures without concern of being ridiculed, permits his players to do the same.
As a Teacher
Teachers and coaches have similar responsibilities as coaches within this conversation. It may be because teaching is coaching and vice versa. Being a man as a teacher is slightly more complicated than being a coach because the presence of men in sports is the norm, while the opposite is true in the classroom. In my experience, most classroom teachers are women. Therefore, masculinity in the school takes on added meaning as the pressure to provide a stereotype-destroying model for students becomes paramount. It almost feels like balance can never be achieved between brutality and brilliance. Why would anyone suborn violence for sport while simultaneously appreciating poetry and prose?
The enormity of the situation became apparent as students questioned my presence and knowledge based on my fulfilling the role of coach on campus. At times, it felt like students believed my physical presence in the classroom was a performative resignation to fulfill my true passion for athletics. As mentioned before, my view of being a man works in concert with coaching, not consequently. Masculinity in the classroom is an exercise of discourse and appreciating disagreement as a learning tool rather than an excuse to fight. Ironically, a different fight of sorts occurs in the classroom. It is the fight for validation and belonging. In a world where patriarchy and masculinity are scrutinized ad nauseam, I find it interesting to have to prove my worthiness as an educator because I am a man.
As a Husband
Exhausting every possibility, regardless of the consequence, comes to mind as I think of manhood from the lens of a husband. I cannot think of a time when this was not my primary thought. My responsibility is to protect the family and provide financially, emotionally, spiritually, and in as many ways as necessary. The exhaustion associated with this belief contradicts every assertion made in favor of self-care. I destroy my body working a second job because my family needs more financial support than I bring home from my primary job.
In 2022, I will facilitate more than 100 workshops to increase our family income. I am exhausted physically and emotionally. Some days, I take off work to facilitate a workshop (or a few) because we need the money. I will do it in a heartbeat if it means my wife and kids have whatever they need to succeed. Unfortunately, the toll this brand of manhood is taking on my body is heavy. I do not know how I will keep pace as I head into my 45th year around the sun in February.
More importantly, I do not know why I would teach my youngest son to destroy himself in the name of love and provision. Is that the best message to send to him? I do not know. There are times when my answer is an immediate no. Sometimes I straddle the fence between hell no, and this is absolutely necessary. I am a grandfather of three now. I want to have meaningful relationships with them. My version of manhood might kill me if I fight to keep pace. I use the line from Taken, “The price is the price,” when my son asks if I am tired.
As a Black Man & Father
Being a man as a Black man is an impossible undertaking. My size and skin tone are insurmountable barriers to advancement and professional happiness. In every professional situation, the three B’s (big, Black, bald) tend to intimidate people. What does that have to do with being a man? It has everything to do with it. My words, body language, proximity to people, and facial expressions are scrutinized to the nth degree. Authentic expression is discouraged because it may offend someone.
Recently, I was informed by my supervisor that people do not take me seriously as a leader because of my lighthearted approach to facilitating discussions and professional development. Within seconds of that revelation, I was admonished for being too matter-of-fact with people and making them feel uncomfortable or challenged personally. “Your leadership style rubs people the wrong way because of your sense of humor and direct approach to conversations and situations. People do not like that. They do not take you seriously.”
Pardon my language, Adam. What the f**k am I supposed to do? Why do I have to adjust a reasonably positive approach to life? If I am not entertaining people for their comfort, I immediately become the angry Black man. Being angry and 6’5” and 365 pounds does not lend itself to favorable outcomes in the United States. In many respects, my masculinity must be suppressed to appease others. It sucks. Being a perceived threat increases once people learn about my past as a football player. I’ve had school resource officers casually tell me they’d shoot me if something happened on campus. My fifth grader is ten years old. Earlier this year, we took our son to the emergency room for treatment, and the doctor called him a teenager during his treatment. I must teach him that, for him, being a man comes with a different set of rules than others because he is bigger, taller, and darker.
One day, we will discuss his experiences as a physically dominant AfroMexicano boy fighting for a place in this world.
-Will Goodloe
Please, consider supporting the Goodloe’s efforts to change the culture of coaching toward guiding the development of the whole person – not just the athlete. Without a doubt, they are some of the best people I’ve ever met.
-Adam Talkington